Reunion

The family made it. Now, jet lag.

Children somehow deal with it better, at least in their own minds, because they really don't realize they are being cranky. To them, everyone else is just being aggravating. Jet lag manifests itself in the Tater in the form of enormous amounts of energy. One day I want to let her stay awake as long as she wants to, just to see how long it takes her to crash on her own.

Peanut, on the other hand, is the "Little Buddha", as Mrs. Warpiper calls her. Generally unfazed by anything, she has been chilling since she got here. Today she cried a little bit for her bottle. That's about as bad as it gets with the Peanut.

Today we headed out for a drive with my favorite cab driver so the family could see some of the Saigon landmarks. Little Miss Crabby Tater groused the whole way, until we arrived home and the cab driver, Hong, went to pick her up out of the back seat of the cab and place her on the curb in front of our building. Expecting an outburst, I moved towards Hong to let her know that Tater was just cranky and tired from her recent change of hemispheres. Instead, the Tater put her arms out to Hong as she lifted her out of the car. Tater's arms fully around her, Hong placed her on the curb. Tater acted as if being picked up and coddled by this strange Asian woman whom she just met was just the most natural thing in the world. I'm not sure what it is about the Vietnamese women, but Tater has absolutely no problems with them.

Hong refused the tip, and asked that I call her the next time I want to carry the family around again.

Islands in the stream.

After lunch, I walked out of the noodle house and down to the corner of a very busy intersection. I had to get back to work. Up to the crosswalk I went and looked across the street to my destination. So close, yet in Vietnam, so far. Hundreds of motorcycles and taxis sped past me as I tried to determine the best moment to step off the curb and wade into the traffic. In Saigon, you never, ever leave the curb and attempt a mad dash. You must do nothing unexpected. You want to do what all the 1,238 drivers within 200 feet of you actually expect you to do. That is to step off the curb at an even pace, keep your eyes on the oncoming to make sure they actually see you, and then trust them all to swerve around you as you make an even, unchanging pace across the street.

A brief lull in the flow, and I glared at the oncoming drivers and stepped off. Working my way across the four lanes, I noticed out of my peripheral vision some movement just behind my left shoulder. I looked over to see a little ancient woman wearing pajamas and the conical hat in my shadow. She had judged that her chances of getting across without fatal injury increased exponentially in the leeward of this hulking 280 pound Westerner.

Charged with this new, unexpected responsibility, I turned back to the onrushing motorcycles and cars and gave my best glare and slowed my pace so she could keep up with me. Two close calls and one threatened motorcyclist later, I made it across. I looked back to my left as the old woman flashed me a little grin and we parted ways.

Tater and Peanut

After interviewing nannies over the last couple weeks, I now learn that I actually already have a nanny.

Who knew?

Four days and counting.